Rise and Shine
by legendarytobes
Summary: Set post "A New Low" for Miranda and "Monster" for Lucifer. Gary on Maze's orders helps try to get Lucifer out of his funk after revealing his face to Linda goes poorly.


**Rise and Shine**

The lights flickered on overhead and Lucifer regretted the effort he'd put into drinking through his entire stash of liquor in his penthouse. Every handle had been drained in the last twenty-four hours to keep up with his celestial metabolism, and he'd finally been able to pass out. It wasn't the best plan because then his mind could only replay in aching detail the last week: murdering his brother, blood on his hands, his mum collapsing in his arms and the mix of relief yet blame in her eyes, falling apart at work and the suicide by sniper he couldn't quite manage-the lack of punishment he craved-and then everything he buggered up with Linda. Getting soused made sense at some point yesterday (two days ago?) but after the nightmares and now with the hangover that only drinking a whole bar could render in him, Lucifer was certain he'd made a mistake.

Bloody perfect.

It was all he seemed capable of doing these days.

He moaned and threw an arm over his face. His wrist grazed scarred, twisted flesh, and when had _that_ even happened? Lucifer didn't remember letting the glamour fall last night, but he'd been awfully drunk. Obviously, it had happened. Just as well, no point putting up pretenses when he'd both committed fratricide and melted his shrink's brain.

"Mazikeen, I've no interest in dealing with you today. I said I was sorry about Linda, and I'll try and figure out a way to make things up to her when I can. Now, do as your told and keep Lux running."

The footfalls on the other side of the penthouse stilled, and Lucifer groaned. It was _not_ Maze. She only knew how to stomp in her heavy combat boots, to throw her weight around. Besides, she always had a retort. Granted, she didn't serve him as his demon servant any longer, but she still worked at Lux when it pleased her. It probably had more to do with Patrick than with him. But Maze would have made her presence known by now and snapped at him for going soft.

So, it was someone else then.

Unlikely it was the detective after they'd parted ways a few days ago. He couldn't tell her _anything_. Hell—and wasn't that the operative term-everything with Linda had spectacularly proven that he couldn't ever tell her anything. Besides, Lucifer was fairly certain it was bright and early, far too early, on a Tuesday morning and the good detective would be getting her spawn off to school.

If it was the staff or a patron, woe be unto them because he was too pissed to make any glamour slide back into place this morning. He wasn't even sure he could sit up completely straight.

Lucifer let his arm cover his face but moved it just enough to uncover his mouth. "Whoever you are, it would be best advised if you went back to the main floor. Whatever needs to be done today to prep for this evening can be overseen by Patrick or Preston."

The footfalls were solid and something heavy yet muffled thudded on his bar top. "Well, I suppose that Patrick can handle that. He'll have a bit of time today, not that he doesn't work, sometimes, but Ms. Smith's grabbing brekkie with Linda, and I've been sent here. Believe me, I didn't want to come, but when Ms. Smith asks, you say yes."

Lucifer groaned again. "I would cover for you."

Preston laughed at the bar and Lucifer couldn't see what the man was doing but he could hear shuffling around and the clink of glasses on the bar. Somehow, he doubted he'd be lucky enough to have his employee prepping him some hair of the dog to make his headache lessen. Then again, he didn't have any booze left. Would that water into wine was one of his powers, what a wasted bit of talent that was on the half-brother he'd never met.

"You can't cover for me. Ms. Smith would ask you, and you'd tell the truth."

Lucifer gritted his teeth. "I can _skate_ the truth well enough, even for Maze. Besides, you've seen me, mostly. I appreciate the thought. Now, you may leave."

"Believe me, again, I do not want to be here, but I'm far more scared of Ms. Smith than I am of you."

"I'm the Devil. I'm beyond terrifying, ask my shrink!" He couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice or the slight growl from creeping into his tone. It wasn't a joke about Linda, but the truth, a bitter pill that was his breaking point. Honestly, if he weren't so drunk, he might have given up and found a way back to Hell by now. Whatever was the bloody point of pretending anymore. "You can go."

"No," Preston said, voice soft yet respectful as always. "I rather fancy my knees, and I don't relish having Ms. Smith break them."

"She wouldn't do that." 

More clinks on the bar top. "She would, and we both know that. So, I'm bright enough to follow her orders to the letter. Now, boss, I've got orange juice, apple juice, and some fresh croissants. I don't think you should be drinking anymore…uh, looks like you might be out of that anyway."

"You brought me breakfast, Preston?" His voice is a dry croak. He's the Prince of Darkness, he did not need orange juice. If it wasn't in a screwdriver, why would he bother?

"Thought it might help. Look, Ms. Smith and Linda filled me in, respectively. I can't begin to imagine the week you've had."

"No, you couldn't, mortal."

"But, boss, I'm stuck between a rock named Mazikeen Smith and a hard place with you so just help a bloke out. Talk with me, drink something non-fermented, and I can check this off my list, right?"

He let out a long breath and raked his hand over the scarred furrows of his face. "Preston, oddly, I appreciate the sentiments, but I'm not fit for company currently."

His employee coughed, sputtering nearby like the git Lucifer originally took him for. "Are you stark naked?"

Lucifer couldn't help but add the leer to his voice. It was what he did, after all. "No, but it would serve you right. I'm often in all my glory, but today is…I'm not myself."

And if that wasn't the sharpest skirting of a lie. Wasn't this the face he deserved? The punishment of his father, and the visage a monster deserved. He'd gotten because his twin on his Father's orders had forced him to fall, to burn for thousands of years in a lake of fire and Sulphur, because the Devil was Hell's warden but also it's first victim too. This face now was the one he'd earned, and no amount of glamour could cover that truth up or will it away.

"I'm not sure I understand." There was another shuffle and from what Lucifer could discern, Preston must have finished setting things up and seemed to be leaning against the bar, eagerly waiting like the overgrown puppy he was. "What's going on?"

The words are harder to say than they should be. Even after the last few months with Malcolm going after Preston first and shooting him, the trip to Hell to save his chef who hadn't deserved tenure in Hell in Lucifer's place instead, and even getting him in on Mum-sitting from time to time, Lucifer shouldn't really care about Preston's opinion. No matter what he's maneuvered with the other man's medical records and spanking new insurance records, they are not even close to brothers. Merely enough to fool Blue Cross, Blue Shield. And yet…isn't it always about what the humans will think?

Linda who must still be frozen in terror somewhere in her office. Has his doctor even slept? Of course, she can't really be his doctor anymore. Then, the detective who can never know him, not the real core of him, and will never understand what he's done for her, how he's stained a soul he already thought couldn't get more spotted. Now Lux's chef who, somehow, has gotten under Lucifer's skin in an oddly compelling way.

He does not want more disapproval.

Cannot bear another human mind blown by all that he is. Not that Preston hadn't seen it, but flashes from Hell were different, more dreamlike and easier to chase away in the light of day.

But the pause draws out too uncomfortably long even for him and the words finally creep out of his throat.

"My glamour."

"What now?"

Oh, of course Preston was thick enough to force him to spell it out. What else would make his morning even more complete. "My face," Lucifer replied. "I can't…I'm too hungover to change it to something more pleasing."

Preston lets out a sigh and almost sounds relieved. "Blimey, that's it? Sounds a sight better than if you were naked. Definitely better than any intense orgy parties you might have been having and I blundered in on. If that's it, well, you don't want the croissants to get completely cold, do you? I have some homemade apple butter for them too, something I've been playing with."

Lucifer shot up from the sofa and arched what was left of an eyebrow ridge at his chef. "Are you quite daft?"

The chef stilled and breathed in slowly, deliberately, his eyes regarding Lucifer before turning back to his spread. "Honestly, boss, it's not as bad as demon geese."

"You're quite insane."

"I think Lux broke me, go figure. That or the cadets. I've seen a few odd things with them and a few even odder traveling through Asia. Lux is by far the weirdest, but I've seen the weird and unexplained before. I just can't ignore it here."

Lucifer stood and pretended his stomach didn't lurch. Maybe over a dozen handles of top shelf liquor had been far from the best idea he'd ever had. Shuffling with none of his usual grace to the bar, Lucifer grabbed a glass of apple juice and guzzled it greedily. Maybe he couldn't pretend it was actual cider and fermented if he tried hard enough. At least his throat wouldn't be parched.

"You're the only human I've ever met who shakes off the Devil's face." He grimaced and finished his glass. "Would that more were like you."

Preston shrugged and set a croissant, a small crockery tub of the aforementioned apple butter, and a butter knife on a saucer and pushed it toward him. "I think after you wake up in Hell but get to come back, it can only get better from there, boss. Or, um, don't take this the wrong way, but I'd rather see that face than my own sometimes."

Lucifer chuckled, oddly relieved by the git's logic. "_You're_ the lazy carbon copy. Dad must have only been so inspired lately. Makes me wonder if there's a human who looks like Amenadiel somewhere. It would be a riot, wouldn't it?"

Preston shrugged set out his own food. "Maybe. Still, I honestly prefer this. It's less confusing."

"I guess you'd never make it as a twin." Lucifer poured himself orange juice this time and wished for it to be a screwdriver. "It's overrated, believe me."

"I'm an only child," Preston added. "Small family, my parents fuss over me some, mostly worried about me getting a proper job after my travels and getting me married off. I'm sure that bartender for Satan wasn't exactly what they had in mind."

"I pay well," Lucifer replied, lifting his glass and waiting for Preston to do the same.

"Ta ever so for that," his chef replied. "Well, what do you think?"

Lucifer took a bite and it was good, still a bit warm and the apple butter accented with enough cinnamon but not overwhelmed by it. "Quite nice, but we don't serve breakfast foods, Preston."

"No, but I'm working up to teaching Charlotte muffins. Your mum is, uh, she's getting better a cooking and not setting things on fire."

He sighed and considered his glass. "If it makes her happy…what's a third oven or a fourth microwave? I've the money."

Preston laughed. "I'm working on getting her to understand that metal doesn't go in the microwave, it's just a slow process, boss."

"Well, it's hard to keep the Goddess of All Creation busy in a way that's both safe for mortals and, frankly, keeps Mum from having sex."

"Now who's judgy and a prude."

"She's my mum! I know where I get it from now, but I just…that's my mum so keep her busy cooking, Preston."

"Well, right then. Muffins soon it is."

Lucifer chewed his croissant thoughtfully. "Did Mazikeen insist you bring the pastries with you?"

"No, I thought that was a nice touch and assumed you'd need to sober up." Preston ran his hair through his mop of curls and, seriously, if Lucifer was going to get his shit together enough to help his chef win his bird back then the first thing they'd be doing was going over correct grooming habits. "She just wanted me to pull your head out of your arse…her words, not mine so please don't rip my arms off."

Lucifer let his eyes flash even brighter than they already were but wasn't sure if he were disappointed or relieved that Preston didn't even yip. "Then, you are scared of me."

"Not really. You've already invested money, time, fake papers, and your one special coin on keeping me alive. I don't think you'd even maim me now, let alone kill me. Add on that the fact that Chloe would never allow it, and I'm safe as houses around you."

"Nice you think of the Prince of Darkness like a tame kitten."

"I don't, but Ms. Smith is much scarier."

Lucifer nodded. Preston had him there. After all, there was a very good reason she'd been his top enforcer since before he'd tempted Eve in the garden. "But you didn't have to come. I'm fine, mostly."

"Yes, that's why you've drunk all your liquor, your clothes are wrinkled enough that even I'd wager you haven't changed or bathed in a few days, and you're full devil. That seems to be all the signs of perfect mental health."

"Ouch, did that hurt? Seems to be the first bit of sarcasm you've ever offered me, Preston."

He shrugged. "It's not my style to be cutting. I just…I told you, and maybe you were still too hungover for it to click, but I talked with Ms. Smith and Linda both. If you need an ear for anything, a sympathetic bloke, then I'm here and with baked goods."

Lucifer blinked, the alcohol-induced fog finally starting to clear from his brain. "Linda? You talked with my doctor?" He looked down at the bar, suddenly finding it fascinating. "She can talk?"

"Yes. I mean, at first she didn't want to see me for obvious reasons. I gave her a bit of street cred by cutting my thumb, and we had a long talk to suss things out. She's doing much better. She wanted to see Ms. Smith first, go out on that celebratory drink for Maze's first bounty. But, uh, Linda said that she's going to take a couple weeks off from _all_ her patients and then get back to it fresh. She said she's sorry she got scared, but she wants to try."

He drummed his fingers on the bar and considered Preston's words. "She's not catatonic?"

"No, I…perhaps we should get shirts made or decoder rings. Small club we've got going, the humans who know, but she's in it, and she is trying. We, uh, also might start spending time together."

"Offloading on all the infernal gossip with each other. How positively quaint, the hens getting together," Lucifer's words would have carried more bite if he didn't feel so defeated. It was irrational and petty, but she'd answered the door to Preston, and they (usually) looked just alike. Why hadn't Linda felt brave enough to speak with him?

"I'm used to being lost mostly in a flock of birds. You should try and get a word in edgewise around Miranda, Stevie, and Penny." Preston busied himself by collecting up both empty plates and shoving them back in his honest-to-Dad picnic basket. "She really is disappointed in herself. I…she knows that she handled it poorly." 

"She saw the Devil in all his glory," Lucifer said, finally glancing back up from the bar's surface. Maybe he understood Preston's point. If it were hard for a mortal to hear about heaven and hell and everything in between with authority from his own face (so to speak), then it was as annoying to discuss how badly he'd left things with Linda while staring at the countenance he had struggled but failed to summon this morning. "It is what happens to humans who see."

"I'm fine."

"You're unusual, and I think most of that is your ruddy fear of demon geese. Your hindbrain is full of fear for the wrong damn menace, emphasis on the _damn_."

Preston leaned one hip against the bar and crossed his arms over his chest. "Maybe, but Linda's functional, talking and doing normal things, and meeting a demon and Hell's best torturer for brunch. I'd say she's trying very hard."

"She shouldn't have to."

"I don't understand."

"She shouldn't bloody well have to. I…it was foolish to think that any of this," Lucifer threw both arms out and winced as juice from his glass sopped onto his jacket. "was permanent, that I could make it last. I'd never been able to finagle a way to stay so long before. A month maybe, if Amenadiel got sidetracked with heavenly duties. A month was the longest I'd ever gotten before, much, I suppose to the frustration of every high school senior bored out their minds in English class since."

"What now?" And Lucifer helped he didn't look, well normally, quite that daft when he was confused. Then again, Preston seemed to live in a near-perpetual state of befuddlement.

"The longest holiday I ever managed before this one was a month in Elizabethan England. Helped old Will with some rewrites on _Hamlet_. Might say I've experience with daddy issues."

"Blimey, I forget sometimes."

Lucifer laughed, but it came out far more bitter than he intended. "I'm sitting here as burned as I looked when I came out of the lake of fire, and you forget _what_ I am?"

"Just the how long you must have been around part. You knew Shakespeare?"

"Oh, and in the biblical sense. Will was quite extraordinary. Fancied him quite a bit. Always made it a point after that to stop by England when I got enough of a chance topside. Before him, Marlowe, and long after that, Oscar Wilde. Others too. The accent," he sighed again. "many things are affectation but not without reason. I'm rather fond of Merry Olde. Never been to Surrey as of yet."

"Not much to see."

"I'm beginning to doubt that," Lucifer replied. "But the loophole with my brother, the open ended deal around Mum now…I've spent over six years with humans. At first, I played it the same way I always had with hedonism and no consequences. Party that never stops, and while I've enjoyed many men, women, and, well, _everyone_ these years…they weren't connections. I suppose I let my employees creep in first. Delilah was such a nice girl, deserved more than what happened to her."

"That pop singer who was murdered last year? I remember; Stevie was right sad about it. She worked here?" 

"Once upon a time. Sometimes my favors don't end out the way I expect them too. I'm not…I don't have the power of my Father. I can't know how things will go." Lucifer snorted. "If I were omniscient, I'd bugger things up a lot less. If I had known that she'd run afoul of the wrong power players in her career, I wouldn't have helped her up. But humans…you lot do far more evil things than the devil could even dream of. Even now."

"I'm sorry." 

"And it just gets more complicated, doesn't it? There's you, and I almost got you killed."

"Kind of technically did, but I feel much better."

"Right then, and Linda who is coping but she shouldn't have to. Humans weren't made to cope with this," he hissed, pointing to his face as if that would be the confusing point for the git. Maybe it was. He was too unerringly calm with all of this. "It's a sodding punishment. It was forced on me by _Him_ to scare sinners, to make them confess all they know to me for appropriate sentencing. When most humans see it, they're left a gibbering pile of goo on the floor. Some, like Linda, get better apparently. Others do not."

Preston's eyes went wide, and there would have been something comical under other circumstances of seeing a look so utterly clueless on his own face. Now, it just turned his stomach. "What do you mean 'others do not?'"

Lucifer pushed off from the bar and started to pace, his fluid grace now returned with the loss of his hangover and his rehydration. "Some humans who see the Devil-see all of me-_never_ recover. The utter piece of human rubbish who murdered Delilah is one of those. Jimmy Barnes, last I heard, is still screaming his head off in a mental asylum, mad as the day is long." Lucifer stopped pacing long enough to flash his eyes once more toward the chef. "So, I forgot. It was beyond stupid of me. So very foolish. I forgot, and I hoped, and I don't get to hope for anything, not since the Fall."

"So, I could have gone mental?"

"Do keep up. Yes, but you seem fine, so I figure you're going to make it, Preston. Besides, Hell is just…it's harder to keep things settled there, to keep the glamour…the way I _used_ to look in place. I didn't have time for a work around after you got shot, but it was a risk, yes. But leaving you stuck in Hell because Malcolm shot the wrong person was a bigger one. You pulled through like quite the champ."

Preston swallowed hard and started collecting up the emptied handles of liquor scattered around the piano and the bar top. Lucifer had noticed that about the git, that he was always looking for something to do with his hands, for some way to stay busy in the kitchen or at Lux's bar. Most of the time, it seemed like a way to avoid getting dragged into a big row with Maze.

"Well, then, I'll process that later. Just glad I have an overwhelming phobia of even regular geese then."

"Miracles never cease." He stopped pacing and sat down heavily at his Steinway. "But in the last week, I've killed my brother-and I've never killed before so whatever church version you heard is bollocks-I guess half-broken my shrink's mind, and now I just…the hangover will wear off and the glamour will come back, but whatever is the bloody point?"

Preston stopped shoving bottles in the trash can he'd yanked from under the bar. "Linda's doing better already. I talked to her twice before she agreed to make the brunch date with Ms. Smith. I really think she'll be ready to work with you soon."

"Yes, the whole talking and moving and not frozen, shaking in fear part must help."

"You're worried about Chloe."

It wasn't a question.

"I have visited here in starts and fits for over six thousand years."

Preston let out a low whistle. "Yeah, still never getting used to how old you and Ms. Smith are. I understand it intellectually but then you make a remark like that or Charlotte talks about the Big Bang, which fuck me is literal, and my brain goes to mush."

"Still, I've visited a lot, and until you and Linda, no human I ever was friendly with saw me. Those I felt like punishing sure. Any who were foolish or unlucky enough to cross me on this plane, of course. But not ones I considered friends or more. I forget, and it's foolish."

"You don't think Chloe could deal with it."

"You have an exceptional phobia and few options. I suppose it's hard to be terrified of someone who paroles you from Hell." Lucifer shrugged and gestured to his scarred, flayed face. "Lessens the shock and horror."

Preston set the can on the bar and sighed. "I would be lying if I said it didn't."

"And the jury is still out on Linda. I couldn't risk the detective's sanity." He let his fingers ease over the ivories before him but did not play. "And we both know that I'm lying, and I don't do that, except maybe to myself." And it all bit into him that much worse staring into that face, the one they usually shared in common.

Preston sighed and leaned against the bar again. "She might be fine. I'm alright. Linda's doing pretty well. I mean, you can't blame people for being freaked out. Linda's a doctor, right? She's a woman of science and logic. I don't know what her religion was before, if she had any, but the whole heaven and hell's real is a lot to take. I stopped going to church much after I got confirmed, one of those Chreaster fellows. I go twice a year if that to services." He shrugged. "Well, and I'm on deck or was for my godson's christening, but it's a lot to take in especially if you're lapsed I think."

"The detective certainly isn't religious. I think if her spawn is anything, it's probably because of the influence of her ex or his family. See, then it just proves my point. It'll go over even worse than you can imagine."

"One day, you would have to give Chloe the chance to decide that on her own, boss."

He smashed his palm flat against the piano keys, a discordant set of notes for once springing from his shuddering pride and joy. "If I give her that and assume she takes it as well as you or Linda, relatively speaking, that she's not left some mad, raving mess in an institution, which does happen."

Preston sighed and gave a small, self-deprecating smile. "But not always, boss. You're only so fierce and intimidating."

"But even if she wasn't rendered an incoherent mess, then she could…she probably would reject me."

"She might surprise you." 

Lucifer balled his hands up at his sides, not wanting to ruin his piano. She didn't deserve the abuse. "And what about your bird, Preston? What about Miranda? You can stand here and bake breakfast and tidy up around here, dispense advice like a ruddy nanny sent to molly coddle me, but you're as big a coward as I am."

Preston shrunk in on himself at that, and that was one of the biggest differences between them. Lucifer owned every room he was in, every corner. He spread out and commanded the space he was set in like the king he was. Preston was always making himself smaller, blending into the walls.

"I suppose that's true." He sighed and slunk in even smaller on himself. "But Ms. Smith asked and Linda asked, and I have a weakness most of the time for doing what women ask of me. It's how I end up judging so many stupid contests."

"Do I want to know?"

"Probably not. The difference is that I lied to Miranda and broke her. Had a green card wife behind her back and should have had the stones to explain the whole situation to her. I didn't, and look where that got me. Chloe might understand. You and Ms. Smith are intimidating, and have no boundaries, and every surface in Lux needs more bleach than I can manage-"

"Is this a pep talk, Preston, because it's bloody awful."

"It's the best I've got, but you're good people or I think you're trying to be. If Chloe's the kind of good person and detective you think she is, then maybe, one day, when the time's right, she'll understand that too. If you choose to show her."

Lucifer sighed and brought his hands to his face and placed them both palms flat against the skin there. To his surprise, it was smooth like normal, minus the patch of five o'clock shadow over his chin. "Well, that's better, at least."

Preston nodded briskly but still stayed compact, his posture tight. "Cheers to that, mate." He let out a long sigh and then turned to collect the picnic basket he'd brought. "No, I get it. I'm the farthest thing from an expert on women, and I know that better than anyone. And you just had the worst week of yours I suppose since, well, the one that's in the Bible."

"Technically the actual elaboration on the Fall is more Dante and Milton's thing and only somewhat accurate. I digress."

"Not shocked there, boss, and you don't have to run out and tell Chloe now by any means, but Linda and I so far are still standing. In a month or a year, who knows? Right?"

Lucifer stood and shoved his hands in his pockets. "I apologize for being short with you. It wasn't fair to throw your problems with your bird in your face like that."

"I made quite the cock up with Miranda. It's just stating facts."

"A sight too devilish for me, when I try and help those in my employee, not bite their heads off." He frowned at that. "Metaphorically speaking. Anything you've heard about me eating on humans is also utter slander."

Preston looked a bit more pale after that. "Good to know. It's fine, boss, really. I'll see myself out."

"Preston…Gary." 

It was enough to make the chef stop and turn back around, confusion etched plainly on his features. "What?"

"I apologize for being curt with you. It was wrong." He shrugged. "The devil rarely gives a 'sorry' so you really need to take advantage of it."

"Deals and favors and forgiveness, all the formality I don't need," Gary replied. "You've had a bad week, and I can't imagine how upset you still are just about your brother. I thought it would make you feel better to know that Linda's going to be alright, that she's just sorry she failed you at first as a psychiatrist. It's not so bad."

Lucifer nodded, although it was far from how he felt. Friends of a sort, even a patient-doctor relationship (now) was one thing to ask of a human. It was another to try and…he loved the detective. He couldn't lie on that score to himself, never would be able to. He'd died for her, begged his Father and offered his services to Him for the first time in millennia. He'd murdered for her too. It was love, what he felt, and she would never…no human woman could or would ever understand what he was. He didn't understand it.

And he certainly loathed it.

"I suppose there is hope," he replied, deciding not to press the matter further with Gary. He was trying, and he was only human, after all. Let the git think things were silver lined and all that. Lucifer was far older, knew how this all played out, at least for him. "Now, I've been remiss. It's been so up and down with me of late, especially with Mum's arrival after Malcolm. I promised to help you with that Miranda of yours, and I fully intend to do so. I'm a devil of my word after all."

"Boss, really…"

"No, we should get cracking on that project. I need something to get me out of my funk, don't I? Wouldn't Mazikeen want that?"

"I'm pretty sure that's not what she meant."

"Perhaps, but come see me tomorrow afternoon. I've ideas on grooming and sartorial sense. Besides, we really need to get you a social media presence, make the bird miss you and all that. Have you even got a platform?"

Gary turned around and blinked wide eyes back at Lucifer as if he'd slipped on accident into either Lillim or Enochian. "A what now?"

Lucifer grinned, deciding that a pet project was exactly what the distraction gods called for. Gleefully, he rubbed his hands together in anticipation. "Oh Gary, you've so much to learn, my young apprentice, and you're so very lucky I've the time to teach you."


End file.
